


Little Prince

by Spacii



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, So fluffy I'm gonna die, bedtime story, curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 16:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacii/pseuds/Spacii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur’s been enchanted... again... WILL IT NEVER END?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Venivincere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venivincere/gifts).



> For the truly outrageous Venivincere who is so freaking cool and requested a fic to the prompt “bedtime story”. It turned out rather fluffy. Unbeta'd.

“ _Mer_ -lin! **Merlin**!”

He sighed, staring down woefully at the red concoction boiling over the fire in the expensive lead glass flask. It needs to be carefully monitored and the powdered wyvern’s scale must be added with the utmost delicacy. So of course Arthur would choose _now_ to bust in and bellow at him in a tone that demands his _immediate_ attention. The thunderous sound of books crashing to the floor as the door flew open had him wincing and quickly adjusting his equipment so that not _all_ would be lost with the King’s arrival, they needed this potion.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” He turned, carrying the bubbling concoction a good foot away from his person with these monstrous looking metal clamps.

“...What **are** you doing? You look a sight!” Arthur’s voice was loud and strident and Merlin couldn’t help but wince a bit at the pitch of it. Every since his... change... it had become difficult to look at the King for long periods of time or even listen to him without... reacting. Reaction was bad, Arthur didn’t need them to add to his misery after all so he mustn't laugh. Hopefully Merlin’s latest creation would be able to transform him back into the his former self.

“Working.” He answered shortly, his tongue poking a bit out of his mouth as he very carefully set the potion into the metal box he had made especially for just such an occasion. Protective runes against chemicals, lightening, fire, and magical blasts decorated it’s surface so he won’t have to worry about the potion accidentally destroying any portion of the castle.

He must truly look a sight though because Arthur simply stood there, blessedly silent, staring at him as if he were mad. Merlin’s chosen work clothes were, odd, he’d admit. On top of his usual attire he wore what looked like a kitchen maid’s apron out of scraps of stitched leather except it covered his chest as well. He also wore some expensive looking, fitted leather gloves that ended at his elbows and a _much_ larger version of his red neckerchief. The strangest thing he wore though had to be his modified reading glass set. He often needed use of both hands in his work so with Gwen’s help he fashioned leather and metal into a coronet of sorts that carried his various glass lenses on metal “arms”, making it easy to switch between them while working.

Potion safely tucked away Merlin disposed of the, now useless, powdered wyvern scale and asked his King in an exasperated sort of manner. “Yes Sire, what can I do for you?” He started re-stacking the books back into the orderly piles they’d been in before they were toppled. Arthur imperiously cleared his throat and said, “Help me into my armor, it’s already been prepared.” He was shuffling nervously for all his bravado.

Merlin’s eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion, “Prepared? For what? Why do you need your armor? Heavy exercises were scheduled for yesterday, today is form and flexibility.”

“We are overdue for a cursory patrol. I’ve had one scheduled and we leave within the hour.” Arthur casually proclaimed, as if nothing was wrong and his glaringly obvious ailment wasn’t a danger not only to himself but others as well. He was mad.

“No,” he answered immediately, “absolutely not!” Arthur scowled.

“Don’t you look at me like that. I said no, you aren’t going and that’s final!” Merlin slammed the last book down a little more forcefully than necessary.

“How **dare** you!” Arthur practically shrieked. “ I am your **King** , you will do as I say!” He stomped his foot and _that_ didn’t reassure Merlin **at all**. “I am officially your physician now and **I** say that you are in no condition to patrol now. Aside from the obvious risks to your health, what if someone sees you? How will you explain **this** , oh King of Camelot?” Merlin gestured grandly, in irritation, at Arthur’s eight year old body.

They’ve had this conversation before, many times, and every time they bickered furiously about Arthur’s new boundaries due to the unfortunate enchantment he’d been placed under. Merlin insists on erring on the side of caution, while Arthur insists that he only _looks_ like a child but isn’t one and it shouldn’t interfere with his duties to his kingdom. There is no way it couldn’t _not_ interfere though, at least to Merlin’s mind. Even with his training and daily exercises Arthur’s body was still that of a boy’s and he couldn’t stand against danger the way he could as a man. Those around him would be more concerned with protecting him, now more than ever, than themselves and that can get someone killed in a battle. There was also the well known fact that Arthur had no heirs and never allowed young nobles on duty with with Knights regardless, so a young boy traveling with them would draw undue attention and _no one_ can know of the King’s condition. Arthur knew all this of course, yet they still have what feels like this exact same argument almost everyday.

As if the daily responsibilities of running a Kingdom and managing their already long list of enemies weren’t enough, apparently as a child Arthur was even **more** susceptible to danger, especially magic. He was a damned menace! The minute Merlin turned his back there is another magical threat to take care of or a “prank”. He’s dealt with no less than three magical sleeps, two fairy rings, a shape-shifter, and six, **SIX** , attempted kidnappings! He was exhausted, its no wonder Uther was near mad in his hatred of magic, Merlin could almost sympathize with him at this point. Thankfully the Puca shifter was just playing a prank and was a sociable sort. In exchange for visitation rights to the castle, in dog form only, he gave Merlin a potion recipe that should return Arthur to his proper age.

He hopes it works because nothing else has so far and Merlin was at the end of his rope. The last ingredient for the potion was a scale from a member of the draconian race and they had just so happened to run into a couple of wyverns a few days ago. Some King or another had sent them this morning masquerading as statues to replace the gargoyles that had been destroyed so long ago. Of course he’ll need more scales now, hopefully Kilgharrah or Aithusa would be willing to donate for the sake of the kingdom.

Arthur’s face was beet red with anger and building humiliation, this hadn’t exactly been easy for him either but Merlin would not be moved. The King may feel that nothings changed except his size but his manner suggested that perhaps it wasn’t just his body that had regressed.

“Sire,” Merlin began, wheedling, “I believe I have found a medicine that will cure your condition. If you’ll just be patient I can have it finished by the end of the day and who knows? Perhaps by tomorrow you’ll be yourself again and you can resume your usual schedule.”

Arthur said nothing at first, arms crossed mutinously and a heavy frown on his delicate features. He was a _very_ pretty boy, it’s no wonder he grew up spoiled and with a desperate need to prove himself in battle and as a knight. Merlin catches himself staring and almost misses Arthur’s petulant response in his sudden distraction. “Very well then. I’ll have Leon lead the patrol and just go for a **hunt** instead. I’ll go crazy if I’m stuck indoors for even one more day, and you can forget about paperwork and the counsel because those doddering old fools seem to be suffering from some sort of mental ailment. Maybe you should coddle _them_ for a spell, they seem to forget their place and keep offering me candy!”

“ **NO**!” Merlin yelled. Arthur couldn’t go for a hunt! Anything could happen to him, bandits, a crossbow accident... ELVES! “Absolutely not, no way! I forbid it!”

“You... _forbid_ it?” Arthur’s voice rose to a dangerous, and piercing, pitch.

“Erm-- as your... um-- physician...?” He squeaked.

Arthur was taking deep breaths as if to calm himself and muttering about interfering servants who should mind their own damn business and Merlin, stressed as he was, didn’t think that was a fair statement and couldn’t resist defending himself. “Look, you and I both know that right now you are especially vulnerable and It would be easier on both of us if you would just do as I say and keep in sight until I can work this out! I’m doing all I can to resolve this quickly and I can’t do that if I’m chasing after you in the wild and keeping your arse out of trouble!”

Arthur’s face scrunched up and then he was screaming bloody murder. “You insolent fool! How **dare** you speak to me like that! Who do you think you are? I’m not in the least incompetent despite my... condition and I’ve been the target of magical attacks before and survived _just fine_ without any help from **you**!”

Merlin couldn’t help but snort a bit at that, he had **no** idea! “ _Please_! You fall into more distress than any damsel I’ve ever heard of and yet do absolutely nothing to prevent it. You’re spoiled, big-headed, and becoming more and more of a prat everyday. I’m a _wonderful_ servant and you should show a bit more appreciation for all the things I do for you!”

“Oh? What do _you_ do besides take advantage of your position? You don’t respect **me** or my decisions! You keep me locked up indoors all day with _nothing_ to do except paperwork, while all my men are out there training and defending my kingdom without me! I can’t even eat sweet buns after dinner anymore or wear anything with the Pendragon symbol out of doors!” Arthur spat. You could almost see smoke coming out of his ears he was so obviously angry.

“You know very well that sweet buns after dinner have been keeping you awake late into the night, and wearing those clothes out in public make you look like some nobleman’s bastard! You don’t need those clothes to have people respect you as the King!” Merlin fumed. “I’m tired of arguing with you about this. You aren’t going on patrol OR hunting and that’s final!”

“You are the **worst** manservant _ever_ , I **hate** you!” Arthur yelled, running out the room and slamming the door so hard that the book piles all fall over again. Merlin sighs mournfully and just _knows_ that ensuing silent treatment he’ll undoubtedly get will be one of legend.

**********

By the end of the day Merlin could admit that perhaps he’s been acting a bit... presumptuous in how he’s handling the situation. The point was driven home when Arthur barely acknowledged his existence after this afternoon's argument. Even after clearing the enraged Brownies out the castle, breaking the spell caused by Aphrodite’s enchanted mirror, and getting rid of a truly snake-like Ambassador who’d nearly discovered their situation he’d said not a word to Merlin. Arthur truly wasn’t a child despite his physical appearance and he supposed he could have gotten his point across in a less tyrant-like manner. It’s just that the past week has been truly hellish and he could only plead temporary insanity at his behaviour. So in apology that night he gabbed a pitcher of the freshest apple cider he could find and threw some sweet buns and grapes on a tray to take up to Arthur that night.

When he walked in to Arthur’s chambers Merlin found him at the desk in an overly large sleeping gown going over what looked to be treaties as his feet swung in impatient fury, unable to reach the floor in the chair. Taking a deep breath Merlin carefully made his way over the untidy mess littering the floor and stopped next to him, pausing just long enough to fish a vial of dark red liquid from his pockets and place it directly in front of him. For a minute nothing happened then Merlin watched, amused, as Arthur set aside a sheaf of papers to uncork the glass and sniff carefully at it’s contents. He made a disgusted sound and held it as far away from himself as possible. Smiling, but still saying nothing, he moved to set down the tray on the bedside table. Then with an overly dramatic flourish and a smile he returned to present the goblet of cider. Arthur’s mouth twitched but he still gave a rather loud, long suffering sigh before he pinched his nose and downed the vile contents. Almost immediately after he broke the day’s silence to curse at Merlin, alternately chugging and cradling the goblet to his chest protectively.

“Good GOD, what _was_ that?! It’s not fit for human consumption!” He wailed.

“If all goes well, Sire, it should be able to dissipate the magic clinging to you from the cursed Spring you bathed in. If it’s as effective as my research indicates then you should be yourself again by morning.” Merlin grinned mischievously. “Now, time to rest!”

Ever since his Majesty’s size change he’d found it difficult to sleep due to the combination of restless energy and a too big bed. So Merlin, much to their mutual relief and embarrassment, had taken it upon himself to see Arthur to bed every night and almost every night would end up falling asleep right there next to him. Tonight was no different and Merlin gleefully swooped Arthur up into his arms hopefully, sadly, for the last time and tucked him into bed.

“I have a treatise to read!” Arthur whined, suddenly sleepy.

“Indeed, Sire.” He hummed in agreement, giving the cover one last adjustment before taking a plate of food from the tray and setting it on Arthur’s lap, who dug in greedily. Merlin then grabbed the sheaf of papers he had been frowning through and was snuggling into bed next to him. It was only a matter of minutes after demolishing the light snack that Arthur was yawning a sleepy thank you and Merlin couldn’t help but kiss the top of his head before he started to read:

_“Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit...”_

~The End~


End file.
